The Unexpected Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya deal with a THRUSH temptress.
1. Surprise Surprise

Illya Kuryakin, that smug know-it-all U.N.C.L.E. agent was finally within my clutches. He sat there handcuffed to a metal chair, with each wrist fastened to an armrest and each ankle to a chair leg. I wasn't taking any chances with this one.

His head was hanging over, a little drool coming from the side of his mouth as I'd given him a substantial dose of sedative to make him as helpless as a baby.

I relieved him of more equipment than a Sherman Tank, two guns, two knives, lock-picks, explosive putty, a mini blow torch, a garrotte, some vials of probably sleep gas, as well as several clips of live and sleep dart ammunition. This guy was a walking armory, unlike his partner who I knew from his dossier, carried less firepower.

Solo, he was the tactician, while the Russian was surprisingly the strong arm. The were the Frick and Frack of the spy world. I would have never put them together as a successful team because they were so un-alike, but their pairing worked and too well. Where one was, the other was sure not to be far behind and I was counting on that as part of my plan, using the Russian as bait to lure Solo into my trap.

Kuryakin, was quiet from what I heard and was like a walking encyclopedia when information was needed, but when held captive, he had a snarky smart mouth on him and seemed to always try to get in the last word. Man that guy could make one hell of a bomb too... I swear he takes delight in it, like some sort of pyromaniac."

Now Solo, he just can't keep his hands off women, it's like he's addicted to them. That was part of my scheme as well.

"What a pair, one has a thing for bombs, the other for bombshells, the kind that wears high heels. Well now I had the 'little old bomb-maker' under my control, knowing Mr. Libido would be here soon to rescue his friend."

Kuryakin raised his head, looking at me with beautiful blue, drooping eyes.

"Y'know y'not gonna win. He is heeeerrrrrrr already. You are a dead bird..."

I couldn't believe the Russkie could manage to talk; for a small guy, he was as strong as an ox. "But not for long," I smiled at that thought.

_"Я готов к нему_I'm ready for him."_ I spoke to him in his own language.

_"Нет, вы не_no you are not."_

"And why is that, you pompous ass?"

_"потому что он стоит прямо позади вас_cause' he is staning right behind you,_" the Russian slurred.

I spun around, drawing my gun, but Solo wasn't there.

Kuryakin let out what sounded more like a grunt than a laugh as he struggled to smile. A nice back handed slap across his already swollen mouth ended that, and after he spit some blood, he passed out again. I was really enjoying this.

That was when I heard it, a loud creak as the door at the top of the basement stairs was being opened. No doubt it was Solo.

I prepared myself, adjusting the top of my tight dress, making sure I had ample cleavage exposed. I tousled my auburn hair, hid my pistol, and dropped to the floor; making myself look helpless and alluring as I lay spread eagle on my back. I closed my eyes that were now green, thanks to contacts and pretended to be half conscious.

I could hear the door open and the approaching footsteps; it was then I moaned.

Strong hands lifted me, they were warm as they touched my cheek. I let my eyes flutter open, meeting the warmest hazel-brown eyes I'd ever seen. So this was Napoleon Solo...wow.

"Are you all right, can you stand?" He whispered. His breath smelled minty, and the slight hint of cologne was very sexy.

I nodded, and he lifted me to my feet like I was as light as a feather. I suddenly thought that was funny, me being a Thrush. Yeah, I should be as light as a feather even though I knew I wasn't.

"I'm afraid your friend isn't doing so well, I think he was poisoned." I gasped into his ear, making him pay attention to my heaving breasts as he looked down at me. Oh he smelled so good, and I suddenly found myself wanting to reach up and nuzzle that ear.

He lowered his head, allowing his lips to come enticingly close to mine.

"I would not kiss her if I were you Napoleon," Kuryakin warned in a loud, coherent voice." She has a sleep potion in her lipstick and by the way, she is a he."

"And you know this how, partner mine?" Solo said, trying not to show his surprise.

He relieved me of my gun before I could even draw it and lowered me down in a chair all in one swift motion and cuffed my wrist to the armrest, just as I'd done to his partner. I tried flashing him a puppy dog look, again making with the heaving bosoms, but it didn't work now that he knew.

"I smelled it when she...he moved close to my face,"Illya answered, " It is a standard Thrush formula and has a distinct odor and it was then I saw there was an Adam's apple. Women do not have Adam's apples. Napoleon, reacquaint yourself with Julius Jones, or should I say, Julie?"

"Yes, soon to be Julie, once my surgery is complete! How the hell are you awake Kuryakin?" I demanded. "You were a dribbling two year old a few minutes ago."

"That is because my dear, I have been doused with your organizations drugs so many times that I have developed a sort of tolerance to them. I suppose it is lucky for me that you Thrush are creatures of habit and rarely adjust your favorite formulas. The most I suffer from your concoctions is a rather annoying headache.

I watched as Solo picked up the set of keys I'd left on the table and used them to open the handcuffs restraining his partner.

Kuryakin rubbed his swollen wrists, then took the keys from his partner, freeing his ankles and tossing the keys to a far, dark corner of the room.

"Julie, an Angelique or Serena you will never be." The Russian taunted me."Shall we go?" He smiled to the American..

"Hey you two aren't leaving me here?" I whined, giving it my best shot.

"Yes we are." Solo flashed a wide grin at me.

"The keys are there," Kuryakin pointed." It should take you some time to move your chair, given it is quite heavy. _Удачи_have fun,_" he said as he wiped the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief Solo had handed him.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry? _Пожалуйста?_please?_

"You are lucky this is all we are doing," Kuryakin said menacingly as he leaned in close to me. He turned to his partner with a strange smile.

"You really did not know Napoleon?"

Solo had a tone of defensiveness to his voice, "I could tell. I knew, but I was just bluffing.."

"Right." Kuryakin snickered.

"Did too," Solo insisted.

The last thing I could hear was the Russian's laughter as the two of them disappeared up the stairs. "You were going kiss her."

"Was not. I really did know!" Solo groaned as they slammed the door behind them.

.

"I hate those two... and U.N.C.L.E." I struggled against the armrest, yanking violently with my wrists. Now that they knew who I was; the element of surprise was gone. I'd have to think of another way to lure Napoleon Solo and his partner into my web...yes web. I like that.

I was seething at Kuryakin's comment about never being an Angelique or Serena.

"I'll show them..." I hissed, as I struggled further. "Damn! " I couldn't help but whine, "I broke a nail!"


	2. We've got to stop meeting like this

Solo and Kuryakin pushed their way into the small but crowded, smoke-filled club. Kenny's Castaways on Bleeker Street, where the wanna be's mingled and danced, blocking the way as the agents headed towards the bar.

The music was loud, with a band called the Kingsmen performing their big hit. Everyone loved the song, but were saying the band would be one hit wonders...

"_Louie Louie, oh no,_ _Me gotta go now_

_Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said Louie Louie, oh baby, Me gotta go _

_Fine little girl waits for me Catch a ship across the sea _

_Sail that ship about, all alone, Never know if I make it home..."_

_._

Both men stepped up to the crowded bar, with Napoleon raising his hand, getting the bartenders attention.

"What can I get you gents?"

"Scotch on the rocks and... "Napoleon looked at Illya, who waved him off." Just the Scotch then."

"We could not have picked a quieter place?" Illya asked.

Napoleon shrugged. "Not our call."

"I am going to wait over there," Illya raised his voice, talking over the din of the band as he pointed to the wall at the far end of the bar. "

.

_"Three nights and days I sail the sea,Think of girl, constantly_

_On that ship, I dream she's thereI smell the rose in her hair._

_Louie Louie, oh no Me gotta go Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said_

_Louie Louie, oh gotta go,__Okay, let's give it to 'em, right now!"_

_._

A loud guitar solo, with the patrons of the club clapping along brought the decibel level up enough to make Illya stick his fingers in his ears to muffle the noise. He loved music, but not quite this loud and in close quarters. He leaned against the red brick wall that was covered in hand written messages left by patrons over the years...' Harry I love you, Sally. Mary is a slut. Meet me at our special place Tom. For a good time call Shirley,' with an accompanying telephone numbers... lots of phone numbers were scribbled there.

Together yet separated, Solo and Kuryakin waited for their contact who would send them on the next leg of their journey to a dead drop where they would retrieve information on a potential coup in South America.

The ebb and flow of the crowd blocked the Russian's view of his partner, and Illya craned his neck, trying to maintain visual contact, but sometimes it just wasn't possible for him to see past the masses of talking heads.

Solo remained hunched over his drink at the bar when a voice spoke to him, a very sensual voice...a little deep but very feminine.

"Hmm, I was wondering when I'd run into you again," she said, leaning in very close to his ear, so close that her lips brushed softly against it, giving him momentary goose bumps, especially when he felt a large pair of breasts pressing against his back.

It was then it dawned on him as I recognized that voice, and slowly he turned to face her...bringing his lips dangerously close to hers. Her face was thinner now, and her auburn hair piled up into massive curls on the top of her head in a bouffant style. It was framed by a wide cloth headband covered in sparkling beads.

"Julie...or should I say Julius Jones. Did you have you ever get your surgery?"

"Come to my place and I'll show you," she cooed, trying to tempt him.

"Thanks but no thanks, I'm flattered but you're just not my type," he answered truthfully.

"That wasn't a request Solo."

Napoleon felt a sharp prick at the back of his neck, seconds later his eyes rolled backwards and the last thing he remembered was collapsing face down on the bar.

The bartender signalled for two of the bouncers to get rid of another drunk. The men strong armed him off the stool, lifting the agent up between and taking him out the back door to unceremoniously dump him in the alley behind the club.

Julie Jones was waiting there for them with her car. She handed the bouncers a twenty dollar bill, and they shoved him into the back of the black sedan for her.

"Thanks," she said batting her long false eyelashes."My boyfriend just can't hold his liquor." Julie was dressed in a tight glittery mini dress with mod red black and yellow geometric patterns. The skimpy outfit showed off her legs and her cleavage enough to make a man want to see more.

She got into the car, started it and hit the gas pedal, and with the tires screeching, she sped off into the night.

"That was one gorgeous bird man," one of the bouncers sighed.

"Bird? That wasn't no bird, it was a guy."

"No freakin' way...really? How'd you know?"

"There was a bulge where there shouldn't be, if you get my drift."

"Wow! I never seen one of those...what you call em, guys that dress like girls?

"A cross-dresser I think, but this one did more than just dress up, those boobs were real. Come on we gotta get back inside."

"Weird, man."

.

The guitar solo went on for an interminable amount of time in Illya's estimation until finally the lead singer broke into a verse again.

_"See Jamaica, the moon above, It won't be long, me see me love_

_Take her in my arms again, Tell her I'll never leave again_

_Louie Louie, oh no, Me gotta go_

_Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said, Louie Louie, oh baby_

_Me gotta go,.Let's take it on outa here now_

_Let's go!"_

_._

The song blessedly came to an abrupt end and the audience disbursed, quickly returning to their conversations and drinks. Illya looked across to the bar, seeing no sign of his partner, and wondered if he'd made a quick trip to the mens room. He made a beeline there, but upon opening the door he found only group of young men sharing a joint.

They quickly hid it, though the distinctive odor lingered, giving them away. Illya looked at them, shaking his head and saying before he left, "That will rot your brain." They paid him no mind.

He ducked into a dark corner in the back of the club, hiding himself conveniently behind a large decorative potted palm tree.

"Channel F- Napoleon where are you?"

There was no reply, only static, and that made the Russian instantly nervous. He approached the bar, asking the bartender if he'd seen what happened to his friend.

"Oh your buddy? Man he can't hold his liquor. I had the boys help him out back. His girlfriend was with him."

"Which boys?" He refrained from saying anything else.

"Over there by the back exit. Tommy and Vinnie." The man pointed towards two burly men standing beneath a red exit sign to the left of the small stage.

Illya approached them, holding out a ten dollar bill he'd drawn from his wallet.

"You brought a man back to the alley tonight?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Describe him and the woman who was with him." Illya said, holding up the money.

"He had dark hair, dressed in a nice suit, completely passed out from drinking I guess. She was a looker, but she," he hesitated. "She was a he."

Illya bit his lower lip. "Auburn hair, big..." He gestured with his hands.

"Yeah that's her... a big pair of melons alright, shame she was a guy."

"Thank you gentlemen." Illya ignored the last comment and handed over the bill, exited to the alleyway,but found no trace except skid marks on the concrete.

_"Вот дерьмо, Наполеон. Что проблемы вы получали Вы в настоящее время_shit Napoleon, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"_

He pulled his communicator again, calling headquarters. "Open Channel D- Waverly."

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Sir there has been a little problem. Mr. Solo has gone missing and I suspect it is the Thrush agent Julius...I mean Julie Jones who has taken him."

Waverly huffed. "Ah Mr. Solo and a woman again?"

"No sir, I do not think that is really the case. Jones, shall we say is definitely not Mr. Solo's kind of woman."

"Hmm, quite. This is most unfortunate, but there is still an assignment to complete, or did you make contact...?"

"No sir not yet."

"Well I'm sorry to say the mission comes first. Stay there until you meet with the contact, go to the dead drop when you're given the location and retrieve the information and then return here to headquarters. In the meantime I will alert agents in the field to keep an eye out for Mr. Solo."

"Yes sir."

Alexander Waverly could hear the disappointment in his number two agents voice. "Try not to be overly concerned Mr. Kuryakin, as I've said in the past, Mr. Solo is a grown man and can take care of himself I'm sure. However, once you are finished with your current assignment, you have my permission to search for him. Out."

Waverly left no opportunity for Illya to express his gratitude, though he was sure the Old Man knew. He grudgingly sat at the bar nursing a glass of vodka, opting not to drink it for once and having no choice but to wait for the contact to show.

Forty-five minutes later a balding Hispanic man wearing a dark rumbled suit sidled up next to the blond agent, giving the code.

"I hear it's going to be a cold winter this year." Given that it was mid-July, it was a phrase that stood out.

"Only if it starts to snow in August." Illya gave the response. "May I buy you a drink?"

The man wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief.

"Sí, I suppose _Señor._"

"What'll you have?" Asked the bartender as Illya waved him over.

"I'll have a Tab _por favor."_

Both the Russian and the bartender looked at the man oddly, realizing a second later he wanted a soda of the same name, the bartender confirmed the order. "Tab it is Mac." He offered to add to Illyas drink but the agent declined, covering the top of the glass with his palm.

The fizzy drink was served immediately and the man nervously gulped it down."I thought I was supposed to meet your partner."

"He was pulled away and is otherwise occupied at the moment." Illya answered without batting an eye. "Now the location if you please, I am in a bit of a hurry."

_"Oh, ¡lo siento!...sorry._ I'm new at this. Go to the corner of Lexington Avenue and 36th Street to the Residence hall. There is an envelope at the front desk under the name of Smith. The Resident Assistant will give it to you, no questions asked."

"Thank you." Illya whispered, slipping off the barstool and disappearing into the crowd. Outside he gave a loud whistle for a taxi, with a checkered cab pulling up in front of him within seconds. He gave the address and the instructions to the driver to step on it, along with the offer of a better tip if they arrived quickly to the destination.

Illya retrieved the envelope at the address as he'd been instructed, hopped back into the waiting taxi and took off for Del Florias. He rushed into headquarters without so much as a how do you do to Wanda as he grabbed his badge from her at the desk, delivered the envelope and gave a near breathless verbal report. Waverly saw that he was anxious, and released Kuryakin to begin his search for his partner.

.

Napoleon woke up with his head pounding, finding himself chained by the wrists and hanging from a wall. There were no windows in the room, and only a wooden table there in the middle of the floor, illuminated by a single incandescent light bulb.

Jones stepped out of the shadows, her dress and headband sparkling in the light, and out of habit, and Solo couldn't help eyeing her up and down.

"You know we really have to stop meeting like this." He told her, trying to act nonchalant, even though he was strung up like side of beef.

"So you like what you see handsome?" She lit a cigarette, taking a puff from it, then offered it to him. He took a long drag, just to be polite but blew the smoke in her face.

She coughed, giving Napoleon an icy stare that reminded him of his partner.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Sorry, but this isn't very nice either." He rattled the chains with his hands just to be a little dramatic.

Solo watched as Julie ran her hands sensually up and down along her body, repeating her question.

"Do you like what you see Napoleon?"

He had to admit, she was quite curvaceous and her makeup was tastefully done this time."Now fair play, my turn. You didn't answer my question back in the bar... did you have your surgery?"

She moved closer to him...he could smell her perfume or maybe it was aftershave...he wasn't sure. Napoleon tried turning away but she pressed her lips against his, shoving her tongue into his unwilling mouth, but then damn... his libido kicked in and for just a second and he returned her embrace. She reached down, slapping her right hand against his crotch, fondling him. He couldn't control himself, as his eyes saw a beautiful woman yet his mind was screaming to him that she was a male.

"Hmm, is that what I think it is? Are you are happy to see me?" She laughed. Julie pushed forward, rubbing her ample breasts against Napolen, allowing him to feel her bulging excitement down below.

"Thank you for answering my question, but a simple_ no_ would have sufficed, " Napoleon snickered once he gained his composure and relaxed. "As I said earlier, you're not my type, and never will be. Sorry, I prefer a natural woman, not a manufactured one."

That earned him a slap in the face. He turned his head, rotating his jaw to alleviate some of the sting. "Why are you doing this to me?" He whispered, changing his tactics and taking a gentler tone with her.

"Just like last time, I used that nasty little partner of yours for bait, now I'm using you. If I can bring down the likes of U.N.C.L.E.'s finest, then I'll be allowed to join the ranks of Angelique La Chen, and her friend Serena. I plan to go only one way in my organization and that's up. You and the Russian are going to help me do it."

"You like Angelique or Serena ...sorry they're way out of your league." He laughed at her but realized maybe he shouldn't have, but it did seem funny to him given Jones wasn't even a she. He wasn't quite sure what Jones was, other than a very confused person. The idea of someone having their body altered to the opposite sex was something new to him, and it was disturbing. He couldn't see how any sane person would even want to do it, much less start the physical process.

Julie's nostrils flared. "You're not going to bait me, that's the same thing your partner tried on me last time. No, you see Napoleon dear, I learn by my mistakes. Obviously you don't, otherwise you would have never given me the opportunity to free myself the last time we met."

She held out her wrists, showing me some nasty scars, there as a result of the handcuffs left on her as Illya and he abandoned her in the basement that day.

"You'll pay for these," she hissed. "So I guess the rumors I heard about you in Paris from Tamis Voudrais weren't true?" *

"What rumors?" He lied, remembering that air-headed Thrush agent only too well.

"Tamis told me you liked women...and men."

"Hmm, I don't recall that," He lied again. "You're half right though. I do like women, very much."

He cocked his eyebrows, contemplating what she had planned for Illya. She didn't notice that he was fingering with his star sapphire pinky ring, rotating the stone to activate the miniature tracking device that Illya had installed in there not too long ago as a birthday gift.

"Just be careful when you come and get me partner," Napoleon thought to myself.

.

Illya returned to the scene of the crime, noting the street to which the alleyway led from behind the club was a one way. He walked out to it, heading down the street, while activating the tracker in his communicator. He was looking for a different signal, one not emitted from a pen, but from a special transmitter he'd put in Napoleon's pinky ring.

Napoleon had yet to use it, and kept his fingers crossed his partner would be able to activate it. Hopefully the Russian was in range of its transmission.

As he continued to walk, there was still nothing, until he heard a faint blip. Illya turned, heading down the next block, as the signal became stronger.

"Good man Napoleon," he whispered.

.

"So how exactly do you plan to lure my partner into your trap? I'm just curious," Solo asked. He was hoping she'd take the bait this time, mentally crossing his fingers that this one, like so many Thrush, liked to brag.

"Oh when the time comes you're going to contact your friend." She held out his communicator pen for him to see. "You'll tell him that if he doesn't show up within 24 hours with exactly $50,000, that I will kill you."

"You have to be kidding? U.N.C.L.E. doesn't pay ransom for their agents. It's a fact of life, we're expendable," he laughed at her again.

"I know that!" She sneered at him. "And I also know your partner won't let you die. He'll get the money somehow, won't he?"

"Wait, I thought this was all about raising your status with T.H.R.U.S.H. Central and now it's money?"

"Oh you are being dense aren't you?" She ran a neatly manicured nail along my face. " Oh damn!" She looked at her hand. " I've chipped my nail polish."

He couldn't believe how easily distracted this one was and prompted her to return to her previous train of thought hoping to hear more of her plan.

"And you were saying I was being dense?"

"Oh yes, It's not about the money at all, that's just a way of controlling your partner to show up when I want him to. He'll think he's arriving to pay your ransom and you'll be released to him, but I'll be waiting to trap him with this." She held out a vial of red liquid hanging from a gold chain, like a pendant. "A simple sleep gas to knock him out. Of course he'll be on guard, and I'll show him I have no weapon...so he'll feel a little safer. And when I offer you to him, that's when I'll get him with the gas."

That was probably one of the stupidest plans Napoleon had ever heard, but he wasn't going to tell her that. Having activated the tracker in his ring, Napoleon prayed it would be Illya giving her a surprise instead, and when she least expected it.

She lifted something out of the shadows, dumping the contents on the table. It was a large purse , and out fell a pistol, a blackjack, a knife, a syringe as well as assorted vials of clear liquid, and makeup...lots of it. Lipstick, rouges powders, the works. She was packing all sorts of goodies in there.

"Damn," she cursed again, I'm out of nail polish remover." She pouted over it like it was the end of the world. "Oh well, better go get some...you stay put darling boy." She crinkled her nose playfully as she headed towards the door.

"Sure I'll just hang around," He shot back at her... like he could really go anywhere at the moment?

Once the coast was clear Napoleon tried playing with the cuffs, attempting to squeeze his hands through like he'd seen Illya do, but after a few minutes, he resigned myself to the fact that it wasn't going to work.

"Where are you _tovarisch?_"

There was the creak as a door opened and he guessed Jones was returning. "That was fast," he mumbled, but it was a familiar blond head that appeared out of the darkness.

"Took you long enough." The American jibed as his partner went right to work with a lock-pic to free him of his chains.

"As always, the ingrate."

"Trust me, I'm very grateful for you being the cavalry...again. Please hurry, so we can get out of here before she comes back."

Before Illya could ask who 'she' was, a voice spoke behind them.

_"She_ is back!" Julie snarled, aiming her pistol at them. "Get your hands up Kuryakin. Now how the hell did you find us so fast?"

Illya spoke with his back to her, being his usual snarky self. "Oh just a bit of gypsy magic I suppose." Then he winked at his partner, showing that crooked smile of his, as he was obviously amused by his remark to her.

All Napoleon could do was watch as Illya turned, facing her as he slowly raised her hands, but in an instant he dove at her, grabbing the gun and wrestling her for it. Jones shrieked, as he pulled it from her and she reached out, raking her fingernails across his face.

Solo was sure that really hurt, but it didn't seem to slow Illya down one bit. He ducked a punch from her, but hesitated retaliating.

Seeing that momentary pause, Jones pulled back her fist, landing a blow to his chin, and hitting harder than Illya probably expected. She was still Julius Jones, and only resembled a woman.

The fact that Jones did look female no doubt impacted Illyas decision to hit her, since he never liked striking a woman. Napoleon could see the wheels turning in that blond head of his, as the Russian quickly made up his mind and spun into a roundhouse kick, hitting Jones in the midsection and sending him flying against the wall, knocking him out.

The Russian touched his cheek, distracted as his hand came away with blood on it. He wasn't happy.

"Hey your face'll still be pretty, now come on chum and get me out of these?" Napoleon rattled the chains for effect.

Illya grabbed his lock pic from the floor, returning to the task of freeing his friend, and when finished, they both turned their attention to where Jones lay to cuff her...but she was gone. Neither of them heard her escape in the darkness.

"Do you have a feeling we have not seen the last of Julius Jones," Illya asked as they left the building.

"Julius...Julia, I think we haven't heard the last from either of them."

Napoleon handed him a handkerchief to clean the blood from his cheek. Illya took it, but reached over, suddenly wiping Solos mouth with it instead.

"A bit of red lipstick," he smiled mischievously. "We would not want any more rumors to get started, would we?"

"I suppose it wouldn't be worth trying to explain, would it? It'll be our little secret then, right partner mine."

"Da..._Louie Louie._"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Napoleon asked, not understanding what his enigmatic Russian friend was getting at, as usual.

"You will figure it out eventually," Illya grinned.

Napoleon paused for a moment, recalling the lyrics to the song, with a few lines standing out, _'Fine little girl waits for me...Think of girl, constantly, Take her in my arms again..."_

When he got Illya's drift; Napoleon defended his honor. "Noooo way. Not my cup of tea."

_"Lipstick.._." his partner taunted.

He wondered how on God's green earth, if at all, Illya suspected he kissed Jones back...even if it was just for a second? Or did he?

"Not a chance in hell," the senior agent again insisted.

Illya quoted one of his partners favorite Shakespearean lines to him. "Methinks thou dost protest too much," he snickered... as he just had to do that and winked at his partner again.

"Smart ass Russian," Napolen sniped back at him. Yet he really knew Illya was only kidding, since women were sort of sacred to the Russian, and he definitely knew they were to himself as well.

.

* ref "That's Life"


	3. Pax Romana

Napoleon Solo stepped up to the side-walk from the steps at Del Floria's. It was three in the morning and the street lights created sharp shadows across the front of the building.

A trickle of sweat ran down his face as it was hot and oppressively humid. He draped his suit jacket over his shoulder while he waited for an UNCLE taxi to appear from the parking garage. There was still enough traffic on the street to create the usual din of horns periodically blaring, and engines roaring in a city that never really slept.

Napoleon was feeling tired, but restless as he'd just finished his reports with his partner regarding their last mission to South America. "Gervais Ravel, ahhh," he sighed, deadly and beautiful ...he let his thoughts drift to where they shouldn't have; leaving him now hotter and in the mood fo sex.

No self-respecting woman would be around this time of the morning, at least no woman he knew. He wasn't one for dealings with prostitutes on a regular basis, except to give a polite hello to the local ladies of the evening. He knew them all by name.

They knew when he didn't want their sort of services and left him alone for the most part, but they also knew he was a good egg as he'd slip them some cash for a meal when the tricks were bad and their funds were low.

Napoleon hopped into the taxi once it arrived and settled in for the short ride home.

"Your apartment Mr. Solo?"

"Yes Jimmy, no... take me to Kenny's Castaways on Bleeker Street."

"Right away Mr. Solo." The young driver from the motor pool knew better than to say anything. Section II agents kept the oddest hours and went to some weird places even at this time of the morning.

Mr. Kuryakin, usually went off to those jazz clubs in the middle of the night to 'unwind' when he returned home from assignments with his partner. Jimmy had just come backr from dropping him off at some place called Arthur's Tavern in the West Village.

The taxi pulled up to the address in minutes; traffic was lighter this time of the day. "You want I should wait for you Mr. Solo?"

"No Jimmy, I'll be fine. You're about ready to go off duty aren't you?" He asked, taking a glance at his watch.

"Yes, sir...it's been a long, quiet night. I could use some shut-eye."

"You do that, and thanks," he smiled, as he stepped out from the taxi, and walked to the door of the club. It was the middle of the week, and well past the time any band would be playing.

Why he suddenly felt compelled to come to this place, he had no idea. The last time he'd been here was over a year ago, when Julie Jones had drugged him, trying to make Illya and him part of her climb up the ladder of success with T.H.R.U.S.H.

Napoleon sat at the bar, ordering himself a scotch on the rocks as he surveyed the near empty club.

He spotted three women, with hair in varying shades of blonde, seated at a booth back in the corner and smiled. Perhaps this was going to be a lucky night after all?

Picking up his drink; he sauntered to the table. "Hello ladies," he crooned, with his usual dulcet toned voice, dropping it down an octave. "My name is Solo, Nap..." He was cut off in mid-sentence when three all too familiar faces turned to greet him.

Angelique La Chien, Serena and Julie Jones.

"Why Napoleon darling, what in the world are you doing here?" Angelique spoke with her velvety smooth accent.

"Good question. May I join you?" He asked, figuring what the heck.

'Be our guest," Serena replied, as she lit up a cigarette for herself. "Care for one Napoleon?"

"Only if you promise it's not filled with a knockout gas," he smiled warily.

"For once it isn't," she smiled back innocently, handing the pack of menthol KOOLs over to him.

He tapped one out of the box but refused her cigarette lighter, choosing to use his own. He pressed a small button at its base one time, activating a homing signal to notify U.N.C.L.E. Security to tracke where he was at the moment. It wasn't a 'come and rescue me beacon,' but one telling them to keep an eye on him. If he pressed the button a second time, it would tell them he was in need of help. It didn't hurt to be cautious under the circumstances.

Of the three, Angelique was the only one who watched him and knew what he was doing,but she said nothing; theirs was a unique relationship, one of friendly adversaries...very friendly. This off chance meeting would be neutral to her, no shenanigans. The other two, however, were another story.

Illya detested Angelique, unable to understand why Napoleon continued to have his nocturnal rendezvous' with a female who wouldn't hesitate to kill him if she needed to. Perhaps it was the thrill of that very danger that kept Napoleon going to bed with her. He always had to keep himself on his game even in bed with a woman, but someone as deadly and delicious as Angelique kept things spicy, that ramped up his game even higher.

Serena on the other hand was more vicious than her mentor Angelique. He'd slept with her only once and, had it not been for his partner's intervention, might have ended up with a knife in his back.

He glanced across the table at Julie, noting she looked much better as a blonde than she had as a redhead and wondered if she'd been invited to be a part this Thrush's women only assassin's club. That was her plan, but the question remained: was she still masculine in any way?

She looked pretty good, her skin seemed much smoother, and her makeup, just like the last time they'd met, was impeccable.

"Julie, how are you?" He eyed her cautiously. "Not going to try to kidnap me tonight are you?"

She smiled coyly. "Thank you, I'm _'completely'_ well and no, at least not tonight, I promise."

Napoleon immediately got her drift she'd finally had her surgery. There was something different about her, but he wasn't sure if the word 'serenity' fit her mood, and her tone of voice was more calm and assured, and not the cocky banter she used a year ago.

The four of them made idle chatter about the 'Great Train Robbery' in England as it had been dubbed, when £2.6 million had disappeared at Bridego Railway Bridge, Ledburn near Mentmore in Buckinghamshire, barely a week ago.

"What a girl couldn't do with that?" Julie murmured.

"Darling, play your cards right and you'll have a tidy little sum tucked away for yourself in no time," Angelique purred. "Remember T.H.R.U.S.H. does pay better than U.N.C.L.E."

"Cute Angelique. Speaking of money, you didn't have... I mean T.H.R.U.S.H. didn't have anything to do with the robbery...did you?" Napoleon boldly asked them.

Angelique laughed. "Dearest, if we did, do you think we'd be sitting in this dismal bar drinking...what is it we're drinking, Serena my pet?"

It's called a 'Red Army'...made with vodka, triple sec and raspberry Créme de Framboise."

"Hmmm," Angelique smiled at Napoleon, " Speaking of the Red Army, where is that insipid little partner of yours? Is he lurking in the shadows like a voyeur, watching us?

"Little?" Giggled Serena, "He is far from that."

"Oh that's right you dirty little girl, you had your way with him Serena darling, didn't you? But I'm sure he doesn't hold a candle to our dear Napoleon here."

"Ladies please, I am sitting here...you're embarrassing me, just a little," he grinned at them sheepishly, yet a huskiness crept into his voice.

"Napoleon Solo, embarrassed?" Julie laughed at him. "You hardly seemed the type to be that when I met you last year. You seemed more pompous to me."

"Well there was a little braggadocio under duress, you understand." He downed his Scotch and ordered another round for all of them, noting at this point, the three of them were getting a little tipsy...

"Tell me what sort of delicious duress was it? Were you in bed with our little Julie here? Did she ensnare you with her feminine charms, or was it the other way around?" Angelique egged him on.

It seemed Angelique and Serena had no idea about Julie having once been physically a man, and that Napoleon found a bit surprising, as Angelique rarely overlooked the smallest of details. Still, it was not his place to say anything. Julie was...Julie and not Julius. That was obvious to him now.

He looked at her again, and realized how much more curvaceous she'd become in the right places. She was, to say the least, a knockout.

Julie looked at him with pleading eyes, asking him silently not to reveal her secret.

"I umm, well we only kissed," he admitted.

"Kissed!" Serena giggled, "So that means that you have kissssed each of usss. Tell me Nappy, who's the best kisser?"

Napoleon squirmed in his chair knowing his answer could get him in trouble. "I abstain on the grounds that one or all of you might shoot me." That sent the birds into a fit of drunken cackles.

A bottle of champagne later Napoleon found himself out back in the alley along with his three feathered companions.

They insisted upon having a kissing contest, and who was he to turn them down? He sniffed and cleared his throat as he leaned his shoulder casually against the brick wall, waiting for them to iron out the details of their challenge. Though he'd imbibed a fair amount of alcohol, he'd slowed his pace, wanting to keep his wits about him, while the lady-birds became more drunk. This at least made him feel comfortable enough to submit to their request to judge them in their contest. In the end, he was hoping it would mean he'd get to spend the night with Angelique.

The rules were established; one kiss and they could whisper whatever they wanted into his ear.

Serena went first, spinning him around and shoving his back hard against the wall that was eerily bathed in red from an overhead light. She found that very erotic as she ran her hands up and down along Napolen's body while she stood in front of him in a tight red dress that made her blend in with their surroundings.

"Hey no cheating," Julie warned.

"There was no rule against it," Serena insisted.

"Fine, fine...get on with it darling, I'm anxious for my turn." Angelique called out as she puffed on a cigarette.

Serena drove her lips onto his, and opened her mouth, enveloping her prey. Napoleon tried wrapping his arms around her in response but she pushed them away, "No just me, I want you subservient to my lips," she whispered, finally breaking contact with him after her long, wet kiss.

"Well?" She demanded with a chilly smile.

"I'll withhold my judgement until all the results are in," he grinned at her.

Julie stepped forward, gazing straight into his eyes. Napoleon looked her up and down, as she stood there in front of him wearing a tight black mini dress. It was much more conservative than the glittering mod outfit he'd seen her wearing last year and suited her, showing off her long legs much better.

"So all your parts are what they should be?" He whispered to her.

"Absolutely, and working quite nicely I might add," she whispered back.

"Good, that's good. You really do look nice you know?"

"Why the change in your nasty attitude?"

"You're different, and I mean not just in looks."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Just shut up and kiss me will you, and let's get this over with." There was an edge to her voice, as she obviously no longer felt the attraction for him she had a year ago.

Napoleon gathered Julie Jones into his arms, not hesitating at all, and let her have her way with him again in a passionate kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, French kissing him oh so sensually. He could feel her breasts against his chest; that ignited his libido, and he started to kiss her back, letting his hands automatically roam.

"Oh, so you are happy to see me after all." Julie leaned in harder as she felt his arousal, and deftly licked his ear with the tip of her tongue, teasing him even further.

"Hey, no no!" Serena pointed a drunken finger. "Don't do that Napoleon, remember you're the judgey guy."

"Enough!" Angelique ordered Julie away." Watch and learn, you two pitiful excuses for womanhood."

"Napoleon darling, you know my lips so well, and what I can do with my tongue... I know what things you like me to do to other parts of your body." She leaned one hand on the wall beside his head supporting herself as she moved her face close his, not touching him but teasing him into becoming further aroused without any physical contact, letting her words do their work.

"Do you want my lips?"

"Mmm huh," he whispered, admittedly feeling warm and fuzzy from the drink, not to mention the kisses of the other two having added to the sexual tension he was already feeling.

"Do you want my tongue?"

"Yes."

"What was that, you didn't...say the magic word."

"Yes, please?"

"And do you want the rest of me?"

At that point Napoleon growled his response, as she finally pressed her body and her lips to his. He ran his fingers along her back as he took her in his arms, letting himself become lost in the shimmering softness of her grey silk dress and the familiar body beneath it.

"All right, you had your turn!" Serena snapped, pulling Angelique away with a violent tug.

The platinum blonde turned, pulling back her hand, and slapped Serena across the face.

"How dare you touch me, you bitch." She hissed like a cat." He's mine and you know it."

"Well mee-ow, put your claws away." Serena countered, shoving Angelique backwards. "He wants me, my kiss was the best."

Angelique retaliated with a push and Serena charged at her, swearing in German. _"Ich Werde dich Töten dreckige Hure_I'll kill you, dirty whore!"_

"Like hell you will darling, you're good, but not that good." Angelique tried moving out of the way, but Serena caught hold of her hair with both hands, and she let out a shrill scream.

"Mine was the best! No mine! Take that back! No!" They barked at each other, holding on tightly and continuing to yank each other's hair, turning in circles.

"No they weren't," Julie called to them."Mine was the best." She turned to Napoleon looking for validation, but not really expecting any.

"I suppose you think I'm still not in the same class as them?" She snapped.

Napoleon sighed. "Honey, let's put it this way, you're going to break a lot of hearts in your lifetime, but Angelique had an unfair advantage over you; she and I have been... lovers for quite a while."

"Lovers? Dammit," she hissed at him. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed not to kidnap you again."

"Julie, didn't you hear what I just said to you?"

"Yes I did," she huffed at him, crossing her arms in front of her and her temper rising slowly to the surface.

"Well, didn't that mean anything to you after the way I acted towards you last year...I'm guessing I was a bit of a cad, but then again you did kidnap me and had me strung up like a fatted calf."

"Yes you were a cad, and that's why I slapped you. You were very insulting to me. So why the change of mind? You were pretty adamant about what you thought of me, or was this just a show and you were lying?"

"I did, shall we say, a little research since we last met. You see I can learn by my mistakes and meant what I said and did. Say, you're not thinking of slapping me again are you?"

"I won't, but only if I can hear you tell me I'm a real woman...and mean it. I want you to make me believe you."

He flashed her the classic Solo grin, both charming and disarming.

"After that kiss, and seeing the completed package...I would have to say, yes you are my dear, and I do sincerely mean that. Being a woman is not just about the body, it's also a state of mind, and I can see that your mind and body are very much in sync. You've successfully joined the ranks of T.H.R.U.S.H's femme fatales haven't you? So they have no idea about your..."

"No they don't and thanks for leaving it that way."

They sidestepped Serena and Angelique as the two passed them, continuing to wrestle with each other; their moans and howls becoming louder.

"You earned yourself a pardon for now," Julie generously concluded, "but do me a favor and have a talk with Kuryakin. Tell him never to call me Julius again...there is no Julius, only Julie. Actually there never was a Julius, except in name only. I was always a woman, but one trapped inside a man's body, if you can understand that? I'm not a sicko like some many people think of those like me."

"I do understand, and scouts honor." He made the three fingered salute to her. "I'll have that talk with him, but he is pretty pig-headed at times, but that's his pragmatic Russian personality. Now would you do me a favor as well, promise we'll remain honored adversaries...Pax?"

Napoleon offered his hand to her. He liked this new and improved Julie Jones, and it wasn't just her body he was thinking of. She had a more mature, confident attitude about herself; she'd definitely grown into her new body, with the pieces of her puzzle coming together in a comfortable fit.

No doubt she still had her ambitions with Central, and tonight he saw that her goal of joining with Angelique and Serena had come to fruition, and without him being her victim in the process.

"You sure you still want to work for T.H.R.U.S.H.? We may pay less, but there are great benefits," he grinned.

Serena suddenly reached out, grabbing Julie's hand as she extended it to Napoleon and dragged her down to the ground with a grunt.

The three of them wrestled, and rolled, ripping their dresses and pulling out bits of hair as several of their stiletto heels went flying into the air. Julie seeming to have a bit of an advantage over Angelique and Serena as she tussled with them. She was a little taller and in better shape, while the others were a little more _zaftig._.. not plump but softer perhaps?

Angelique and Serena were not ones for working out at a gymnasium as they preferred the more languid female look compared to Julie, who was a bit younger and definitely more athletic.

"Ladies, ladies I don't think this is very...lady like. You're ruining your nice clothes and..." Napoleon was cut off in mid-sentence, as he felt a sharp pin-prick in his ankle. One of them grabbed his leg, pulling him down to the ground with them.

"Oh crap," he moaned, wondering what he'd just been injected with.

"Thissss is all your fault Sssolo!" Serena bellowed. "You should have picked me!"

"No me!" Angelique howled.

Somehow he managed to get his hand into his pocket as his head began to spin, grabbing his lighter and pressing the button and sending out the distress signal to headquarters as the three women piled on top of him.

.

Illya was wandering the streets of the Village. He'd lost interest in listening to his beloved jazz, and was unable to sleep at home because of the heat. The sounds of the city and the smells were strong tonight as people milled on street corners unable to sleep as well. He walked up to a newsstand intending to buy the early edition when his communicator went off and ducked around to hide himself.

"Kuryakin here," he answered quickly, thinking it could only mean trouble this time of the morning.

"Williams in Security sir, we just received a signal that an agent is in distress. It's Mr. Solo."

"Where is he?" Illya began to walk again, picking up his pace.

"Bleeker Street."

"I am on my way. Out."

When Illya arrived on the scene, he was still holding his communicator using it to home in on the signal from Solo's lighter as it increased in its intensity. He remembered this was the club where the T.H.R.U.S.H. agent Julius Jones had kidnapped his partner.

Napoleon had once cornered him about Jones, telling him he'd done some research and suspected, though her physical body had characteristics of both genders, that perhaps she really was female.

Illya remained skeptical, as he knew the man Julius Jones before the feminine attributes came about. He found it hard to grasp that psychologically he knew she was a woman. Any sort of psychological discussions were things he avoided, as that field of study was abhorrent to him. He'd been ripped apart by too many psychiatric exams in the Soviet Union to want to venture into any such conversations.

He was a realist, a pragmatist, as it were, and Julius' or Julie's psychological state was not something he wished to delve into. It really didn't matter to him if Jones was a man or a woman, it only mattered that he or she was T.H.R.U.S.H. and therefore, the enemy.

.

Illya followed the now steady blip to the back alley, lit by single red light that cast an eerie glow the length of it. He pulled a small flashlight from his coat pocket as he searched for signs of his partner.

"Napoleon?" He called out, his voice echoing off the walls. A rat scrambled in front of him across the concrete, disappearing behind a dumpster. A cat hissed and yowled, startling him as the light reflected in its nocturnal eyes.

There was a moan coming from the ground a few feet away where he located Napoleon laying face down on the ground, his clothes disheveled and torn, and there was the smell of alcohol.

Illya knelt beside him and rolled the American to his back, seeing his shirt was wide open; his face and chest were covered in what looked like bloody marks.

"No," Illya said out loud, realizing it wasn't blood; it was lipstick. There were varying shades of red lip prints all over Napoleon's exposed skin.

The American slowly sat up, cradling his head with his hand as his partner helped support him.

"What happened to you?"

"You don't want to know _tovarisch_," he answered groggily, "but I'm gonna have one helluva headache real soon. And by the way, I promised someone that you and I would have talk about something important," he said hoisting himself up with a grunt, leaning on Illya for support to steady himself. Solo pulled at his shirt, trying to tuck it into his pants... and searched in vain for his zipper. He turned to his partner with a strange look on his face as he looked down at his trousers.

"Napoleon...why are your pants on backwards?" Illya held up a pair of tan silk boxers, waving them in the air like a flag. "These are yours I presume," he smiled wickedly.

Napoleon grabbed them from Illya's hands, stuffing them into his jacket pocket.

"Just, take me home please and don't spare the horses."

"You are not going to tell me what happened are you?"

"Not a chance in hell, now home James...I mean, Illya."

The Russian refrained from rolling his eyes for once, having a good idea what had happened here, though he had no idea with whom it took place, and Napolen seemed adamant about not revealing the truth. He let out a loud whistle, calling a taxi as they reached the front of the alleyway, and helped his groaning partner into the back seat when the cab came to a halt for the pick-up.

Later, when Napoleon hoped he'd be feeling better, he promised himself to have that talk about Jones with his partner...though his lips would remain forever sealed regarding details of the so-called 'kissing contest' as well as the other ensuing events. He still couldn't quite remember losing his shorts, nor his trousers getting on backwards.

.

Six months later Illya walked into their office at headquarters; his face greeting his partner with a dour look of concern as he silently handed a document to Napoleon. It was a copy of a mission report, a T.H.R.U.S.H satrap had been destroyed by Mark Slate and April Dancer in Istanbul a week ago.

"Why so grim, partner mine? Another one bites the dust...chalk one up for the good guys."

"Napoleon look at the list of casualties," he said somberly. "Julie Jones' name is on it...she was identified among the dead."

Solo bit his lower lip and sighed...life, sometimes, was just not very fair was it?


End file.
